All the Waking Seconds
by Hobsonphile
Summary: Post "Chapter 30," Steven visits Charles Bailey


All the Waking Seconds  
by Steph  
  
Codes: Steven  
Rating: PG-13, mild sexual situations  
Summary: Post "Chapter 30," Steven visits Charles Bailey.  
  
Introduction and Disclaimers: The basic idea for this story is not mine- the credit belongs to Su at the Boston Public Fansite forum, who suggested in a post that Steven should've contacted the victim's family after he decided not to attend the execution. I concurred, and from that, this story was born. I'd also like to thank Matt for helping me come up with a few names and for reading over this story when it was completed.  
  
As always, I must emphasize that Steven, Scott, Luanna, Brooke, Charles Bailey, et. al. do not belong to me, but to DEK and Co. This is all for free, so please put away your summons. Feedback will be greatly appreciated!  
  
*****  
  
"Murder extinguishes all the waking seconds of a person's life, in the past and to come..." -Daniel Henninger  
  
The wind had begun the moment the sun dipped under the horizon, battering insistently against the outer walls of Winslow High, whistling through its aging ventilation system, and rattling the windows. To Steven, who was sitting in his office attempting to finish some paperwork, it was as if the building had gone through a metamorphosis, becoming almost a living thing that groaned against the constant assault.  
  
"Daddy, are you ready to go?" Steven looked up from his desk to find Brooke leaning into the doorway, her face a picture of mild impatience.  
  
"I'll be right there, sweetheart. There's just a few things I need to wrap up here."   
  
Brooke sighed dramatically and disappeared once more into the hallway, prompting Steven's face to break into a wide grin. _Teenagers_, he mused to himself. Hefting himself out of his seat, he pulled on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and picked up his attaché case. Once he was satisfied that he was leaving his office in good order, he shut off the lights and locked the door behind him. Away from his vibrating window, a strain of classical music hit Steven's ears, and he decided he'd better say goodbye to Scott before heading out.  
  
Scott's door was open, and Scott himself was leaning forward on his desk, his eyes closed, his hands massaging his forehead, and his glasses balanced very precariously on the tip of his nose. Steven knocked on the door to get his attention, and the transformation that came over Scott was almost comical. Startled, the vice principal almost jumped out of his chair- the sudden movement caused his glasses to slip completely off of his face and his hand jerked out in a lightning fast motion to catch them before they hit the desk. He then cleared his throat and compulsively smoothed out his tie, his expression mildly chagrined.  
  
"You okay, Scott?" Steven asked, fighting back a smile.  
  
Scott reached around behind him and shut off his music. "Oh, yes. It's just a headache."  
  
"Mmm," Steven murmured in understanding, walking into the office and pausing when he had joined Scott behind the desk.  
  
Scott, meanwhile, had picked up his pen and was tapping it against his blotter in frustration. "Dr. Harris has been in my office every day this week asking about the funding, and I have no satisfactory answer to give him. Some of the parents are demanding my head on a pike for my disciplinary actions regarding the fight in the chemistry lab. And I cannot persuade Jeremy and Meredith to sit down and have a civil dinner together." On this, he dropped his pen and started rubbing his temples once more.  
  
"Well, Scott, you're not responsible for solving all of their problems. Even if you are dating the mother."  
  
Scott sighed in exasperation. "I know, it's just..." He trailed off and brought his hands up in supplication.  
  
"I know."  
  
Scott met Steven's gaze, gratitude in his blue eyes, his mouth turning upward slightly in a rueful grin. "I apologize for burdening you with the sordid details of my personal life."  
  
"It's not a problem, Scott, really."  
  
A moment of shared friendship passed, after which Scott changed gears. "Concerning the fight in the chemistry lab, Mr. and Mrs. Garbo have asked to meet with me tomorrow morning to discuss their son's expulsion. Will you be able to attend? I could use the support."  
  
"Sorry, Scott, but I'm taking a morning flight to Delaware tomorrow to give the Bailey family my condolences."  
  
Scott nodded, mild disappointment passing over his features. Then, after studying Steven for a moment, he observed, "You feel guilty."  
  
Steven hesitated. "Well... yeah, I guess I do. We're in the kid saving business, Scott. And it always hurts to acknowledge that sometimes we fail."  
  
The vice principal's jaw twitched slightly as he considered his friend's words. Then, leaning forward onto his knees, Scott began, "When I was feeling particularly discouraged last year, you told me that whatever our students did with their high school diplomas was up to them." Steven nodded, remembering that conversation. "And you were right. It is inevitable that we will one day lose control."  
  
"Yeah." The two administrators lapsed into silence, a silence that was finally broken by Steven: "Well, I should be heading out. My daughter is waiting."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Don't work too late," Steven mockingly admonished, clapping Scott's shoulder. "And try to get some sleep, alright? You look like hell."  
  
Scott's smile was tired. "Thank you."  
  
"Night."  
  
"Good night." And with that, Steven was gone.  
  
*****  
  
The wind was still blowing at a rapid clip as Steven pulled into his ex-wife's driveway and parked the car. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he leaned back and adjusted his scarf, bracing himself for the chill outside.  
  
"You know, " Brooke suddenly said beside him, "I was thinking- maybe I should apply to Stanford."  
  
Steven shot his daughter a look. "Maybe you should apply to Harvard. Or BU."  
  
As they climbed out of the vehicle, Brooke teased, "What, are you going to limit me to schools within a hundred mile radius?"  
  
"Maybe." It was Brooke's turn to shoot her father a long-suffering glance. "Well, I just want you to be close enough so I can... keep an eye on you," Steven protested lamely, putting his arm around Brooke and opening the front door.  
  
"Ugh. Daddy, you're smothering me," Brooke moaned as they crossed the threshold.  
  
"Am I?"  
  
Pulling closer to her father's chest, Brooke started to negotiate. "How about I stick to schools within a thousand mile radius?"  
  
"How about five hundred," Steven countered firmly.  
  
"Seven-fifty," Brooke fired back.  
  
"Two hundred."  
  
"Alright, fine, five hundred. You're impossible, Daddy."  
  
Luanna, dressed in her robe, entered the foyer and gave Steven a kiss. "How was Orange County?" she asked, smiling.  
  
Steven's reply was noncommittal. "It had its moments."  
  
"Do I get a good night kiss?" Brooke asked.  
  
"Sure, honey." Steven closed his eyes and leaned down from his sizable height to allow his daughter to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good night."  
  
"Night, Daddy." Brooke exited up the stairs, leaving Luanna and Steven alone.  
  
Luanna reached up to give Steven another kiss, then embraced him, leaning her head against his form. "Thank you for being Brooke's date tonight."  
  
"It was my pleasure."   
  
Luanna pulled away from the hug and looked up into her ex-husband's eyes. "I love you," she whispered.  
  
"I love you too."   
  
The kiss was deeper and more passionate this time. Steven buried his hands in Luanna's hair- going back to run his lips over her ear, he could detect the scent of her bath oil. Touching her earlobe had almost an electric effect, and Luanna moaned softly. She removed her hands from the back of Steven's neck and unbuttoned the first few buttons on Steven's shirt. When her hands touched bare flesh, Steven suddenly pulled away.  
  
"What's wrong?" Luanna murmured.  
  
Steven struggled to collect himself and he re-buttoned his shirt. "I'm sorry, Luanna. I-I can't stay- my flight leaves early tomorrow."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah." Steven caressed Luanna's cheek, apology in his eyes. "I just don't think we should rush things this time around."  
  
"Okay."   
  
A dull sadness ached in Steven's heart as he leaned forward to kiss his ex-wife one last time. "I'll see you when I get back."  
  
A flurry was passing through when Steven stepped back outside and he paused for a moment, watching the soft flakes leave a dusting on the grass as he waited for the tingling in his body to subside.  
  
Lying awake in bed later that night, the old feelings that encounter brought forth continued to assault his mind, occasionally mixing with the image of his daughter's smile and the voice of his best friend.  
  
And the face of the boy he couldn't help.  
  
Daughters grow up and leave their fathers. And students wander from the path their teachers try to light for them. "We can't always be in control," Steven whispered in the dark as he drifted towards sleep.  
  
*****  
  
"Cynthia attacked life with a passion."  
  
Charles Bailey walked around the couch and sat down in an easy chair across from Steven, setting two steaming mugs on the coffee table. The Bailey family home was modest, but very well kept. Mr. Bailey credited his wife, an interior decorator, for the tasteful furnishings, but what instantly got Steven's attention when he was first invited in were the family photographs that almost completely covered the wall above the small fireplace.  
  
Steven drank and looked at some of these pictures as Mr. Bailey continued. "She was sophomore class president, a member of the choir and the step club- and she had a mind of her own."  
  
Steven chuckled and put down his mug. "She sounds a lot like my daughter."  
  
Mr. Bailey smiled sadly. "Mr. Harper- why did you ask to come here?"  
  
Steven sighed, leaning forward in his seat and thinking carefully about his answer before responding. "As a father," he began, "I wanted to offer my condolences for the loss of your daughter. And as a teacher, I wanted to apologize. On some level, I feel responsible for your daughter's death. Wesley Poe was my student- and I failed him."  
  
"I don't hold you responsible, Mr. Harper. Wesley Poe was an adult when he killed Cynthia." Mr. Bailey took a drink of his coffee and shook his head. "No, the only man I hold responsible for Cynthia's murder was put to death on Thursday."  
  
"Did you attend the execution?"  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"Did you... feel better?"  
  
Mr. Bailey looked up at him sharply. "I felt closure," he replied, his voice firm. "Do not misunderstand me, Mr. Harper, it was not vengeance that I sought." He rose from his seat and walked towards the fireplace, staring at the pictures on the wall. Steven came up and stood behind him. "Each living person touches so many other lives in countless ways... through their friends, their family... their lovers..." He gestured towards a photograph of a teenaged girl on the arm of handsome young man at the shore. Both of them looked like they were in mid-laughter- what they were laughing at, of course, was not captured by the camera. "The young man in that picture is Andrew Meloncamp. He was deeply in love with my daughter- so much so that sometimes it scared me. I wasn't quite ready for my daughter to grow up."  
  
Steven nodded. He knew that feeling very well.   
  
"You take so much for granted," Mr. Bailey continued. "You don't even realize how important a person is to you until they are no longer there." He turned around and looked Steven straight in the eyes. "I miss the way she always left her school books in the front hall. I miss the way she always tied up the phone line after supper. I even miss our fights over curfew." Steven laughed and looked down into his mug. "The kids at her school lost a friend. My wife and I lost our daughter. And young Andrew lost the first woman he ever loved. _Imagine_, Mr. Harper, if your best friend, your daughter, or the woman you love simply ceased to exist at the hand of another human being. How can we answer such an act, except with the punishment of death?"  
  
Steven didn't know how to respond. It was the thought of his daughter suffering the same fate as Cynthia Bailey that brought him here. The truth was, he couldn't possibly imagine what it would be like not to have Brooke storm into his office to voice her opinion on the current outrage. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like without Harry Senate, Lauren Davis, or the other teachers he counted among his friends. He couldn't fathom how empty his life would be without the volatile, unpredictable Scott Guber there to challenge and aggravate him. And, most illuminating of all, the thought of his ex-wife not being there... well, it scared the hell out of him. But Charles Bailey had lived through the unimaginable. Steven looked upon him with great respect.  
  
But there was still one thing that troubled him. "Mr. Bailey," he started with trepidation, "will you ever forgive Wesley Poe?"  
  
Mr. Bailey sighed and sat back down in the chair he vacated. "He apologized to us before he died."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I watched his face _real hard_, Mr. Harper. And for the first time, I saw honest regret in his eyes." A long moment of silence passed before Mr. Bailey said his next words:   
  
"Right now, I don't feel ready to forgive him- but someday, maybe I will."  
  
The End. 


End file.
